


Limitations

by AdderTwist



Category: Watchmen (Comic)
Genre: Beating, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Borderline Dangerous Kink, Canon Compliant, Canon Homosexual Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Beating, Consensual Kink, Consensual Violence, Kinks, Kinky, M/M, Masochism, Not Safe Sane and Consensual, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Painplay, Risk Aware Consensual Kink, Sadism, Sado-Masochism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-08
Updated: 2011-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-15 12:14:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/160748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdderTwist/pseuds/AdderTwist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Rolf finds his the beginning edge of his own limit, and then the beginning edge of Nelson's, and it does not make them stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Limitations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SandyQuinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SandyQuinn/gifts).



> Could be triggering. These two are in love, sure, but they're not totally healthy; they both push a fair amount at the limits of what could be considered safe-sane-consensual, or even risk-aware consensual kink, but there's a lot of trust there, and Nelly makes his limitations known, and Rolf is really aware of Nelson's emotional state, and WOULD stop if there was real panic. Sometimes he stops when there's good, sexual-roleplay-panic, too, and this frustrates Nelson, but you won't see it in this story.

Rolf massages his fist, pauses to look at Nelson, and goes from satisfaction to worry.  
Nelson is quite still.  
There is some blood, on Rolf's hand, and Nelson lies on the ground, chest rising and falling but so, so still, and Rolf panics, just a bit, shifting jerkily.

"Oh god," Nelson whimpers out, quietly, and blind panic transforms for a moment into soul-shriveling guilt, because he's gone too far -  
"Oh god," Nelson says again, shakily, "I think I came from that."

Oh. OH.

Nelson lets out a breathless, shaky half-laugh, lying otherwise still; blood around his mouth, his cheek pressed in the slick little puddle of it, against the carpet, where there's enough to sit on top of the carpet instead of soaking in, the cream colour gone heady dark red. His hair sticks to the puddle, and mostly to his cheek, and his bruised torso, under a torn old t-shirt has a couple of scarlet flecks from that and from Rolf's grazed knuckles.  
Rolf swallows around the lump in his throat, sitting on the ground next to Nelson, and Nelson, mouth bleeding and movements sluggish, sits up enough to drape himself over Rolf's lap, grinning a bit dazedly at him, almost shy. Rolf's heart is still hammering, aching from panic, and his arousal is pressed, visible and rock-hard, against the inside of his pants, but he just wants to stroke Nelson's hair, worriedly, nervous about Nelson's split lip and the inside of his mouth bleeding, how very much it looks like there is, about the heavy bruising blossoming on his jaw, his throat, high on his cheekbone...

"Rolf?" Nelson inquires, looking up, his grin slipping uncertainly, starting to shift self-consciously. "Rolf, darling, are you okay?"

"I just thought," he starts, cuts off awkwardly, and Nelson seems to understand, then, eyes widening. He sits up, strokes Rolf's cheek apologetically, and kisses him. Rolf lets himself get overwhelmed, the rabbit-fast hammering in his chest easing slowly, relief making his whole body tremble, for a moment, and the blood-taste from Nelson's mouth is reassuring, a bright thread of I-am-alive that does something to his hindbrain, makes him relax in tiny increments while Nelson eases him to lying-down, slowly.

"I'm fine, Rolf," he soothes, and Rolf isn't expecting the sudden tug-down of his trousers, Nelson's still-bloodied mouth wrapping around him. He hears himself moan, low and hoarse, hears it as if from a distance, and Nelson shoots him the most pleased look, working delicately, determinedly.  
Rolf reaches out, curls his fingers in Nelson's hair, and looks at him quietly, checking. He never does this without permission.  
Nelson makes a small, approving sound, and shudders quietly as Rolf grips his hair, pushing him down and dragging him up, and Nelson likes this, too, makes a hoarse sound of agreement, wet heat of his mouth curled clumsily and messily around Rolf.

Rolf is not very gentle; he knows he should be moreso, Nelly's larynx is already bruised, and he makes a muffled sound, maybe of protest since it's half-whimper, teeth scraping against the shaft clumsily when Rolf pushes him down anyway, pressing until Nelson has to gag or swallow, and of course it's swallow. Despite knowing that it's got to be an illusion, the bruising, the pain, makes the slick pressure of Nelson's throat feel even hotter, the little struggling hiss of Nelson trying to draw breath with Rolf fucking his throat desperately.

Nelson's eyes widen a bit, shocked pain, when his lip splits just a tiny bit more, and that's what sends Rolf's urgency crashing into climax; it doesn't matter that Nelson's struggling to get enough air, or the wrought, strangled little sound he makes when Rolf's vicious twist in his hair pushes him down further, and Nelson's making a muffled almost-scared noise, whole throat humming, and Rolf pushes him til he's circled around Rolf to the hilt, shuddering as he comes, the world going white, forcing the cut on Nelson's lip wider, and he arches his head back as he comes.

For a time, it feels like there's nothing but white-noise and satisfaction.

When Rolf can think again, Nelson has pulled up, panting shallowly, and is pulling an inhaler clumsily from his pocket, other hand nursing his split lip. Come streaked with his own blood is dribbled down the front of his shirt, and he's looking away, focused on something else.

"Sorry," Rolf says, right at the same time as Nelson is saying, "That was - "  
They pause, looking at each other, and Nelson dabs his bleeding lip gingerly, shivering.

"That was wild," Nelson says, shakily, and drapes himself over Rolf. Rolf, shakily, smooths Nelson's hair, while Nelson sluggishly uses the inhaler, stilling the onset of an asthma attack, panting a bit shallowly as he lies on Rolf.

They lie there, for minutes, the asthmatic panting slowing into sleepy, heavier breaths, his toned body relaxing over Rolf contently.

Guilt makes Rolf stare at the ceiling, for a while, until he can be calm enough to look at Nelson's golden head, overwhelmed with quiet anxiety, protective of Nelson even though it's against himself.

"Are you okay?" Rolf whispers, into Nelson's hair, but Nelson has already fallen asleep, pliant and trusting, his blood sticking to Rolf's skin, and there is only silence, and Rolf's hand smoothing sweaty blond hair, gently, over and over.


End file.
